


(i wanna get stuck between your teeth) like cotton candy

by i_m_disappeared



Category: Yungblud (Musician)
Genre: Collaborating Artists, Kissing, M/M, Musicians, music business
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:56:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29825283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_m_disappeared/pseuds/i_m_disappeared
Summary: It had been a joke, a little cheeky comment without any ulterior motive.But somehow it had led to one of the most interesting collaborations of Dom's career. And one of the most overwhelmingly exciting days of his life.
Relationships: Dominic Harrison | Yungblud/ Harry Styles
Kudos: 6





	(i wanna get stuck between your teeth) like cotton candy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [melewho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melewho/gifts).



> This one's for my wonderful friend Melanie, because she is a queen and deserves so much more than I could give her with a silly little fic (and she's also my favourite Harry stan). Also this cracky idea was born in a conversation with her and I took it and ran with it. Hope you like it, babe. luv u (✿◕‿◕)
> 
> Little Disclaimer: this is my first excursion into the world of RPF (and will likely stay my only) and I feel like having to make clear that it's just a fun little experiment and not me realistically shipping those two or implying anything at all (yes, I kinda feel like having to say this as I involved Harry in it...) 
> 
> And in case anybody is wondering: the whole 'plot' of this is basically coming from [ this video alone](https://youtu.be/KDe3sPygVp0) hahaha
> 
> Hope you have fun reading it as I had lots of fun writing it :)

Drizzle of rain touched his face as Dom closed the dark tinted door to the backseat of the Range Rover. Looking up to the masses of slate-grey and anthracite he pulled the hood of his long black jumper deeper into his face, trying to shield himself from the water. England did never disappoint.  
  
He hurried towards the entrance of the studio, quickly confirming he was indeed permitted to enter the building. It was obviously not his first time shooting a video. But usually, his team tried to use smaller, more special locations instead of big studios. But today was not his video shoot. He was basically here as a guest. And he was nervous. And that was fucking weird.   
  
As he entered the exaggeratedly posh and aggressively lit lobby whose vast space seemed a bit of a waste, containing nothing but a shiny bronze reception desk, a few flatscreens and a single potted plant, he spotted a young woman – at least he read her as a woman according to established societal standards but what kind of bullshit were those anyway – who immediately approached him when she spotted him.  
  
She had a very stylish micro-fringe all complete with an undercut peeking out from her ponytail, a septum piercing, and her arms covered in various tattoos, all fitting nicely into a badass ‘I am capable of absolutely anything and if you get on my nerves imma punch you’ aura surrounding her.  
  
“Hi, I’m Melanie, I’m the production assistant for today’s shoot,” she introduced herself, stretching out a hand he immediately shook enthusiastically. “Dom, nice to meet you.”  
  
He usually made sure to introduce himself by his name so people did not even get the idea to call him _Mr Blud_ or something equally ridiculous. Although the person in front of him did not seem like the type to pull crap like that.  
  
She nodded and indicated with the wave of her hand to him that he should follow her. “I’m going to show you your dressing room. There you’ll find your outfits and everything you need as well as a schedule with hair and make up times and such.”  
  
Before he could respond anything at all, she lifted one finger as if to tell him to wait a second, pressing two of the other hand against the small headset she was wearing.  
  
Then she gave the person on the other end precisely accurate instructions where to find some equipment, all without even slowing down her step. The multitasking skills were quite impressive.  
  
After only a short walk they arrived at a rather nondescript looking sleek black door. She held a key card in front of the device next to the door and it slid open noiselessly revealing a spacious room kept in the same modern but boring style as the rest of the studio he had seen so far.  
  
“Okay, make yourself at home, drinks and snacks are over there, you find the schedule on this screen and if you need anything else don’t hesitate to call. Make sure to be dressed in an hour, then I’ll pick you up for hair and make-up.”  
  
“All right! Thanks, mate,” he acknowledged, and she shot him an amused grin before handing over the card and leaving him to himself.  
  
When the door was closed, he was met with a silence that in the matter of seconds made him uneasy. He was not used to being alone when working. He needed to be surrounded by his team and friends, people who kept him occupied while waiting and providing an outlet for all the pent-up energy constantly buzzing under his surface.  
  
To some people it sounded fake when he said he was really just a part of Yungblud and the rest was his friends and crew and also the audience that related to and found themselves in the stuff he put out.  
  
But to him it was his truest truth. He needed other people. And him not having anybody with him today was just a matter of several coincidences and a rather spontaneous shooting date.  
  
He could of course do it, but it would be nicer to have someone here, even if it were just to roam the contorted corridors and halls and maybe find something exciting. But he was not feeling like running through the hallways, exploring the studio on his own. Yet. Maybe ask him again in half an hour when he got so utterly bored he would start to bug poor Melanie.  
  
His glance fell on the hi-fi system in the corner and he started to browse the attached tablet for some music hovering a second over the iconic black and blue and pink album cover, tempted to put on one of his favourites like _Golden_ or _To Be So Lonely_.  
  
But that could bring him into a really awkward situation really quickly so he refrained and instead chose a less compromising _The Who_ playlist, immediately picking up the rhythm of _My Generation_ as soon as the first chords started filling the room.  
  
He danced his way over to the table and picked up a can of soda and a small packet of crisps, before he threw himself onto the obscenely soft leather couch in the middle of the room, letting his feet dangle over the armrest, not stopping to move them to the beat for a second.  
  
He opened Instagram on his phone, scrolled through a few stories but got bored so quickly that he instead opened his own story and started recording.  
  
“Yo, what’s going on, this is Yungblud! I’m somewhere I can’t tell you where but I’m bored and have to wait so keep me occupied and ask me some questions in 3…2…1…” He made a sound and a face that came as natural to him as the peace signs he had done in the beginning and ended the recording.  
  
He added the question tool and a few black hearts for good measure and checked the short video again to make sure there were absolutely no signs to where he was currently staying and even more important: what he was about to do.  
  
He might be hyperactive and impulsive, but he was not unprofessional. And he was bound to keep all of this a secret by contract. However, there was nothing visible apart from his face and the couch, so he hit _post_ and waited for the questions to pour in.  
  
He was aware 90% of them would be ‘W _hat you are doing? Pls tell us!!!!_ ” And “ _What’s the secret?_ ” and it took not even a minute for at least twenty of those to arrive.  
  
He chose one at random and said “They will sue and probably kill me if I tell you, so I can’t. But I promise you’ll love it.” He knew he was a tease, but he wasn’t feeling guilty because he really was dead sure the news would come as a bombshell when it was time to announce them.  
  
It had all started with a stupid little interview and his mouth being faster than his brain, just as it was most of the time. He had been confronted with a tweet comparing him to Harry Styles visually – which he frankly did not really see himself – and he had thanked the person for the compliment as Harry was a very pretty guy.  
  
And then he had to add that he would like to kiss him. Which had obviously been a joke. Mostly. He wouldn’t have said no of course if the improbable opportunity presented itself. But who would have?  
  
It was nothing special to have a crush on Harry Styles. Everyone, their parents, and their hamsters had. As a guy you did not even have to be queer to admit he was hot without shame. Although Dom himself was obviously in fact very queer.  
  
The interview had been published around the same time as the big piece he had done for _Attitude Magazine_ , where he had been willing to talk about his identity, possible labels and him belonging to the LGBTQ+ community for the first time ever.  
  
That feature covered a lot of important and interesting things and he was still immensely proud of it. But of course, news sites and articles preferred to pick up on that little unrelated quote to write several pieces about him wanting to kiss Harry Styles. Because that was how tabloids worked.  
  
He was not mad about it, not really, although the sad state of journalism was a thing to worry about. It was not harming anyone, so he just didn’t care, ignoring people who retweeted the video and the articles, tagging him and Harry, suggesting things.  
  
He wasn’t even embarrassed that Harry could have seen it. Because first of all, he tried to be embarrassed about as few things as possible. Secondly, Harry Styles was a busy man and probably not even noticing the minor commotion, and if, he was used to worse things. And thirdly, it was not that he had said anything lewd or inappropriate. It had been a joke.  
  
So, he completely forgot about the thing. Until one night his phone exploded. He had most notifications still on, as he wanted to see when people tagged him, he regularly discovered cool things on various social media platforms and knew what it could mean to people if he reacted to something.  
  
It happened on basically every app imaginable simultaneously, completed by his messenger being flooded by his friends. And it was all the same thing: a link to a video.  
  
**“Harry Styles – cotton candy (YUNGBLUD Cover) live at home”**  
  
And it had been posted to his official channel. Dom still remembered exactly how he had thought: “This is fucking real.”  
  
He hadn’t hesitated a second to click the link, being greeted by a very relaxed looking bloke in a small studio, guitar resting on his thigh, wearing a fuzzy looking lemonade coloured sweater one would rather expect on a Grandpa than a young megastar and some classy looking pearls. Next to him was a girl, also equipped with a guitar. Dom faintly remembered her being part of his band.  
  
The song was incredibly well done. It had a completely different vibe than how he originally wrote it, but it was fitting so well. It was loosely resembling the acoustic version he had put out himself but it was a bit slower and way softer without the effects he had chosen, more eery with two guitars and the two voices harmonizing in the most compelling way.  
  
Also hearing that man sing those words he had written himself, all bold and frank and uninhibited, with that bloody voice of his? It did things to him he did not exactly want to talk about. Of course, he had to choose the most sexual song he had produced so far.  
  
And thanks to him the world now had the pleasure to listen to Harry Styles say: “So we just have sex to solve all our problems.” He would accept fruit baskets for his service.  
  
After playing the clip three times in a row – and since then almost daily – he went on Twitter to say something about the amazing surprise. It only took him a second to see the tweet.  
  
**Harry Styles. @Harry_Styles**  
_After all that fruit it was time for a bit of processed sugar, don’t you think? @yungblud_  
  
And attached to it the video link. He had retweeted it in an instant.  
  
**YUNGBLUD’s on mars @yungblud**  
_do they have watermelon flavoured cotton candy? because I want some now  
this is fookin mental mate!!! thanks!!!_  
  
And that could have been it, apart from people not shutting up about it and the news outlets of course seeing it as the sequel to his statement.  
  
Hadn’t there been this one night Dom got a bit too bored and also maybe a bit too lit and started recording himself playing a song he had recently taught himself.  
  
_Medicine_ was objectively an amazing piece of music and all the mystery surrounding it as there was no studio version and no officially confirmed lyrics was intriguing to him.  
  
He just had fun with it. He wouldn’t have posted it if he had been sober. He wouldn’t have tagged the other musician in it either. But he had been pleasantly buzzed and the next morning it had been seen by way too many people to take it offline and make it even weirder.  
  
Besides, it wasn’t a bad cover so it would not make him look bad or anything. That people thought now he was openly flirting with Harry Styles over video was not really concerning him. Maybe he was a little. Maybe he wanted to provoke a reaction. But he didn’t get one apart from a like.  
  
So that should have been it. And that would’ve been completely fine. Hadn’t there been a request from Harry’s management to his, asking him to be a featured artist on a new song. It had been a no brainer, really.   
  
Harry Styles was a very interesting figure in the music industry after all and a fascinating artist. And Dom had loved the song the second he had heard the first demo.  
  
It was a bit rougher round the edges than the music the man had published in recent times. Almost a bit garagey, evoking 60ies vibes but somehow keeping it modern enough to make sure it would be a banger at every radio station.  
  
The beat was driving, the harmonies almost upbeat and the lyrics in stark contrast to the music about losing connection to someone close to you, watching them drift away and not being able to stop the process although you desperately want to fight it.  
  
It was not exactly a love song. But it also was not _not_ a love song.

It was an interesting choice to ask Dom for a feature. But as soon as he had started to play around with it, getting to know the words and melodies, giving them just a bit of his own twist, he had to realize it really made a lot of sense.  
  
They had never been in the studio together because of incompatible schedules but somehow it still worked perfectly. Dom had done a few different alternatives when recording his verse and the chorus and they had even included him in the decision which to pick over a video call with Harry and the production team.  
  
It had been the most satisfying collaborative process, where although it was not his song, his creative energy and ideas had been appreciated. And he absolutely loved the result. He could actually not wait for the world to hear it, being extremely proud of what they had done.  
  
But apart from said video call he had never really met the other guy. And today they would have to spend all day together shooting a video. Maybe that was the reason why he was so uncharacteristically nervous. That must be it.  
  
He proceeded to answer some questions on Instagram until he almost had to hurry to get into his first outfit. Everything they would do today was of course agreed on in advance and he was familiar with the video concept and his looks, but he had not seen the clothes in person yet.  
  
The first outfit was a black letterman jacket, a shirt with lengthways stripes underneath, some black slacks and loafers. He was delighted to see a pair of pink socks peeking out, disrupting the black and white aesthetic a bit. And on the front of the jacket was not some logo or a random combination of letters but a big YB embroidered onto the fabric. This was certainly not a low budget production.  
  
He had liked the video idea as soon as it had been presented to him. They would bring to life two timelines, one in a modern style where they would portray their more or less actual selves, and one from the past in a very retro look from somewhere between the 50ies and 60ies.  
  
If everything went according to plan, they should be able to convey four storylines in the end, in pairs of two, portraying people who could not connect with each other because they were separated by time. It was ambitious but to this day he still had to see a Harry Styles video that wasn’t executed exceptionally, so Dom had trust in his team.  
  
He slipped out of his everyday outfit and into the clothes, that could be considered a costume. Unsurprisingly they fit perfectly. Just in time he heard a knock on the door. He pressed the opening button next to it, revealing Melanie with her trusty headset.  
  
“Oh wow, that’s a look!” she complimented his appearance. “Are you ready or do you need another minute?” – “Ready when you are,” he responded, and she took him through several long corridors.  
  
Getting his hair and make-up done was always fun for him. He loved how you could change a face and an expression with some colour, and it was always fun to chat and joke around with the artists.  
  
He felt contently pampered as three people simultaneously worked on styling his hair, applying layer after layer onto his face and painting his nails a signature black.  
  
After a good hour he definitely looked more like some rockabilly dude lounging in a diner than his usual self. He liked it, though. The hair was enormous, as he had quite a bit of it, styled into a voluptuous quiff resembling the styles of the greaser era.  
  
His make-up was not as extreme as the looks he would do for shows and for fun, but it was still a nod to his personal expression, with dark smudged eyeliner creating an impeccable cat eye he sadly would never be able to replicate himself.  
  
After he had been fogged in clouds of hair- and fixing spray one of the artists led him to the actual set. Although that was kind of an understatement. He realized as they walked through the enormous hall that could easily be called a hangar, that they had apparently built three distinct sets. One looked like a restaurant, one like a flat and one like an outside street scene, each of them split in half with a modern and a retro side.  
  
He was so occupied with being stunned and not knowing where to look first that he did not even notice the people they were heading for. Which was maybe for the better, because like this he had no more time to weirdly freak out.  
  
He normally wasn't one to idolize people. To buy into all that star cult bullshit. Especially since he had seen the other side. All those megastars were people. Some were arseholes, but still people. They all had to eat and shit and eventually die, like anybody else.  
  
He did not want people to idolize him and he sure as hell would not do it to someone else. Harry Styles, though. Somehow it was different. It was Harry fucking Styles.  
  
He couldn't describe what it was about him but somehow, he was something else. Probably not even human. Which was a very, very stupid thing to think if the person in question was standing right in front of you, very human and very real.  
  
He wore a perfectly tailored, frosted pink suit and underneath a white t-shirt with a watercolour-style flower bouquet print and his hair in soft waves. He was in deep conversation with a few people, but when Dom got closer, he turned his head as if he had noticed him approaching and started grinning.  
  
Why were his hands sweating? This was ridiculous. He had met tons of famous people. He usually didn’t even care that much. Harry extended his hand, still grinning and Dom was thankfully quick-witted enough to brush his own off on his pants before taking it.  
  
What he had not expected though, was to be pulled into a hug. “Nice to finally meet you in person,” the other said, not exactly in his ear but somehow his voice sounded like it was meant only for him. Thankfully it ended before he could do something mortifying like faint.  
  
“This is sick, man,” he said, pointing to the video sets, remembering his initial. “This looks incredible.” – “So do you” the other responded nonchalantly but with a smirk and Dom was suddenly very thankful the make-up artists had not held back with the blush on his face. Maybe it would conceal the heat slowly creeping up his cheeks.  
  
“So, this is Brooke,” he went on as if they just had been chatting about the weather, pointing at the tall Black woman he had been conversing with minutes ago, “she is directing today and also came up with the initial idea for the concept.”  
  
Dom nodded at her. “I’m excited to work with you.” She grinned, revealing a small silver ring peeking out above rows of brilliant teeth. “Remember you said that when I start screaming at you a few minutes from now, darling.”  
  
The atmosphere on set was free and easy from the beginning, creating a really productive workspace. It took him a while to even realize that from the camera people to outfitters, technicians and set runners there was not a single person in the crew that he would immediately read as cis male. He made a mental note to talk this strategy over with his management for future productions. He could make more of an effort in this department as well.  
  
The actual shooting was a lot of fun and although Brooke had indeed high standards and a clear vision she was never unfair so it was really joyful to work with her. It was also very pleasant to work with Harry.  
  
It was crystal clear from his professionalism that he had been doing this for a while, but he also wasn’t above voicing if he had been not pleased with his own performance and wanted another try or cracking a joke here and there. Dom assumed he did not only speak for himself when getting the impression that they got along great.  
  
In general, he was just immensely relieved that after his initial awkwardness he found very quickly into his professional mode, being able to channel his creative energies and giving his most.  
  
He also was delighted that no one was fazed the slightest when he suggested things like climbing up the counter of the mock-up diner instead of just leaning against it or throwing a paper plane to the other side of their made-up timeline.  
  
They tried a lot of different scenes in the respective sets, various moods and angles, each on their own but also in direct relation to each other. They just shot as much material as possible because in the end the crucial work of piecing together a self-consistent, harmonic film would be up to postproduction.  
  
They had Indian takeout as lunch instead of fancy catering, which was very fine by Dom and then it was time to change outfits and do the second half. The other outfit was a lot closer to what he would wear on stage or even in his daily life if he was feeling like dressing up.  
  
A black mesh top, black pants with fishnet thighs peeking through several rips, loads of heavy chains and a spiked belt and – his favourite piece – a long coat that could have given off serious _The Matrix_ vibes hadn’t it been a hot pink vinyl. He was feeling himself.  
  
This time he spent a bit longer in hair and make-up, his hair getting freed from the iron grip of the hairspray just to be fixed into his typical unruly look moments after. The face make-up got refreshed, the eyeliner five times broader and black lipstick added to the mix.  
  
When he re-entered the set Harry was already back, too and the suit had given way to blue jeans, a fitted white t-shirt, and a leather jacket. His hair was done up a bit, although not as much as Dom’s earlier and the whole ensemble was evoking a probably not so accidental resemblance to James Dean. Calling the man in front of him just hot was an insult.  
  
And although he still gave his all when the cameras were rolling again and poured himself into his work, he still couldn’t quite help stealing an occasional glance. He didn’t know why it was worse than before now. Maybe it was because they had been going for so long and he was slowly starting to get tired, losing focus a bit easier. Or he had a thing for dudes in vintage looks.  
  
He couldn’t tell how long they had been working or in general how late it was – it was easy to lose track of the outside world in a building like this – when Brooke clapped her hands in an enthusiastic manner after they had watched some of the latest material together.  
  
“I think we have everything vital. Now let’s try the rain.” Dom looked at her a bit baffled. “Rain?” She grinned wickedly. “Rain. I won’t let it go to waste when I have a fancy studio at hand that can provide shit like that. Let me be a dramatic bitch. Prepare to get wet, boys.”  
  
“She has way too much fun with this,” he murmured and Harry next to him chuckled. “She does. Sadly, that type of rain is no fun at all. But I promised her, so you are getting dragged into it, sorry.” Bizarrely enough that statement made it a bit less dreadful. “Okay, I blame you entirely, let’s go then.”  
  
It really was no fun at all. The water was uncomfortably cold, creeping into his skin and bones in mere minutes, the constant pounding of water drops onto his skin feeling like a million needles. He couldn’t really hear the music playing anymore, making it hard to time the performance to it.  
  
Still, somehow it worked. They gave it their all and it quickly became a shot where they interacted more with each other along the metaphorical timeline between their two halves of the street. They had done that earlier, too, but not as pivotally.  
  
Dom didn’t think about it too much when he leaned towards the other man, right into his space, suddenly realizing he was still a tiny bit smaller than him, even with his trusty creepers on.  
  
The next thing he felt was a hand at the back of his neck and an arm around his waist. And then lips. Just warm, soft lips, moving on his as if it was the most natural thing in the world.  
  
It took him a few seconds to realize what was happening, then he eagerly kissed back, forgetting for a second that they were on camera and that Brooke would probably not be amused.  
  
He let himself be swept away, slipped his hands into wet and dishevelled strands of hair, making them even messier. No thinking, just kissing. Just lips and tongues and teeth and body heat.  
  
He couldn’t tell how long it lasted. Probably just a short moment, but it also could have been hours, days even. When they parted, he was breathless and his head was spinning, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Had they turned up the temperature of this rain? Suddenly not a single cell in his body was cold anymore.  
  
As if seeking confirmation that he hadn’t just hallucinated he looked at the other, who also seemed to be a bit out of breath. Nope, it definitely had happened, there was undeniable evidence.  
  
“You have…” he began and then just nondescriptly pointed at his lips to signal that quite a big smudge of black lipstick had travelled from one mouth to another.  
  
Harry just grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye, and started to wipe it away as well as it was possible without seeing it. “It’s actually a bit sad. I was hoping for strawberry.”  
  
Dom’s confused brain needed way too long to get the reference. When he did, he huffed out a laugh, reaching out his hand to remove the last little bit of black that had been missed despite all the effort.  
  
“You caught me off guard. Next time I’ll be prepared,” he joked back, the thought alone making his stomach flutter.  
  
He let his hand sink again, not quite sure yet, if this was getting awkward or not. “So, I guess we have to reshoot this, don’t we?” They could impossibly use this.  
  
“Not before I have seen the footage,” Harry stated as if it was the most casual thing in the world. He headed off towards Brooke, who had an unreadable expression on her face, and Dom looked after him dumbfoundedly for a second before he followed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I'd love it if you left me kudos or even a comment :)


End file.
